


Or Did Hermann Gottlieb Used to Keep Journals?

by skeevyskeeve



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, Past-self Secondhand Embarassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeevyskeeve/pseuds/skeevyskeeve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann would always metaphorically jump to prove Newton wrong. In his latest quest to do so, though, his annoying colleague stumbles across a notebook filled with things Gottlieb would rather not have the other read. Thankfully, he gets it away from Newton before he does, but when he starts reading it over himself, he's reminded of some things he would have preferred to not remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me See That.

“I swear to you that the textbook you're failing to quote properly is in one of these boxes,” Dr. Gottlieb explained, standing near his own desk as he watched his lab partner, his every day annoyance, Newton drag boxes out from where they'd been hidden behind the large chalkboards. He'd do it himself, just for the opportunity to prove Newton wrong on something, but that was a lot of heavy lifting and that was not something he was up for that day. Newt just rolled his eyes as he set the seventh box down in the wonky crescent shape they'd been unintentionally arranged into.

“I really don't know why I'm helping you with this, dude,” he muttered as he pushed his sleeves back up his arms from where they'd fallen, heading back to get the last box.  
  
“Because you won't admit that you know you're wrong, and crave the correct answer.” Or so Hermann was going to say, even as his colleague offered a single, contemptuous laugh from behind the blackboards. Ignoring the other, the mathematician pulled his desk chair over to the first box and sat down, laying his cane on the floor next to it in order to pry it open. He lifted a few of the contents out, a few old books, and a three-ring binder or two.

“Uf,” Newt would be heard all but dropping the last box into place, only to be greeted with a cloud of dust flying into the air. After the coughing fit that ensued, he sat on the floor where he'd stopped, deciding to start on this end of the line of boxes as Hermann moved onto the second one.  
  
The lab went quiet then, except for the thuds of the scientists dropping books onto the grated flooring, and the occasional coughs from a dust inhale. Gottlieb had stopped about halfway through his third box, hooked his glasses onto his face and was stopping to look through a small, title-less book he'd found when Newton held up a rather aged looking composition notebook.

“This one says private. Some secret formula for something or did Hermann Gottlieb used to keep journals?” the wanna-be rockstar mocked as he waved the speckled book around. Hermann glanced at him over the frames of his glasses as he raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I've had notebooks containing both,” he replied as he snapped the title-less book closed and almost too casually dropped it back into it box. “Let me see that,” he leaned over to his lab partner and snatched the book up just as Newton had started lifting the cover to look at the contents. He offered a bit of a glare to the other who just offered a grin and a shrug before digging back into the box he sat behind.

The mathematician gave the front and back cover a once over, but all he had to do was glance at the first page to know what he was holding, and was suddenly glad he'd decided to oh-so-rudely snatch it away from the other. He let the cover fall back into place, eyes locking on the unused name slot on the front.

“Something important, then?” He hadn't even realized that Newt was still paying attention to him.  
  
“You keep looking for that textbook. It should be in that box or the next,” Herman eyed the other man as he stood, guiding his chair back around his desk to put the cluttered surface between himself and the other.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” greeted him, but the smaller man begrudgingly did as he was told which allowed him to sit in peace as he opened the notebook up again. The entire first page was covered in his handwriting, with only bullets to pace the separate entries out.

> _***** I received a letter from a stranger this morning—a Dr. Geiszler, Newton...? He says he's interested in my father's program and the work that he does as well as my part in all the commotion... Although he is, perhaps, almost too enthusiastic, he seemed knowledgeable, well-versed in his field, and...well, actually competent. Perhaps I'll respond and answer his questions, though I don't expect our correspondence to continue for much longer._

Hermann smiled at the words, recalling the moment he wrote them all those years ago. At that time, there was no way of him knowing just how long he'd be stuck with the man who wrote that letter. He'd been so blissfully unaware of the little shit that was Newton Geiszler. It was almost surreal rereading these now. He let his eyes fall back to his handwriting.

> _***** I thought if I responded to his first letter, he may cease his inquiring, however, I've received another letter from Dr. Geiszler in the mail this morning. He expressed his gratitude for the first letter he'd gotten in return, but I may not have covered all the bases he was interested in, for he has even more questions now. And far more specific. Of course, I am forever careful to not release detrimentally classified information, but I will humor Dr. Geiszler for now. He seems so sincere in his curiosities, and perhaps it would do the program nicely to have another brilliant mind on the case. Of course, if I'm honest, I have not yet completely ruled out the possibility for companionship in this man. His intellect intrigues and fascinates me. I think we could get along quite nicely._

He winced at the words, sparing a glance to the other man in the room as he jumped to his feet, waving the textbook that he'd been looking for around as he shouted about how he knew he'd find it eventually. He sneered at him, but would not say that it was he, himself, who had been the one to say that. He'd keep himself busy now at least, leaving him to read his old journal in peace.

“Don't get sore when you find out you were wrong, Dr. Geiszler,” he projected over the desk and across the room to where Newt had headed with the textbook. He didn't even bother to listen to the griping the other had to reply with then. Couldn't he see that he was reading something?

> _***** The correspondence continues, to my surprise. I send out my fourth reply tomorrow morning. Perhaps Geiszler is as intrigued with me as I am with him?_

Hermann couldn't say he'd ever felt more secondhand embarrassment over his own words before. He'd excuse it to him being young and naive when he wrote these journal entries, but couldn't deny the slightly tight feeling in his chest. He felt bad for his younger self, but could still feel the hope he'd had in himself at that time. He felt stupid.

> _***** This afternoon will mark my tenth letter in response to Newton's own. The letters slowly increased in length—I recall the fifth(or perhaps it was the sixth?) one I sent that was a total of seven pages, front and back. As we continue to exchange replies, I've noticed that we've slowly started pulling away from the original point of this correspondence. There is a feeling that neither of us have minded in the slightest, though. That should be taken as a good sign, shouldn't it? If I had colleagues, I feel they'd assure me that it should. However...my only colleague at this juncture is Newton himself, although he does not know. Of course there are others in the labs where I spend my days, but I know they don't like me. I've long since given up on trying with others. They just don't understand. Newton seems to, but I suppose I can't even be sure of that. Perhaps one day we'll share a lab, and I can be sure. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking on my part. I shouldn't dwell on it._

Slowly closing the notebook, Gottlieb let out a rather shaky exhale, having unknowingly lost pattern in his breathing. He didn't think this was going to be a lesson in emotional control, but with every word and feeling he read over, it all came rushing back. How lonely he'd been over the years, how withdrawn he'd become from others pushing him away despite his greatest efforts to connect with them, and just how he'd felt about Newton's letters and the discussions therein.  
  
He took a moment to gather himself together before he tucked the notebook into his desk drawer and locked it, tucking the small key into his pocket as he stood.  
  
“I'm going to get tea, would you like something?” he called to Newton, over the music he had even realized had been turned on. He must be very good at tuning that crap out, or had been more invested in his journal than he thought. He hadn't even read that much of it yet...  
  
“Same ol' coffee slop, please,” the other called out as Hermann bent down to scoop up his cane from the floor where he'd left it. He offered a nod in acknowledgment before heading towards the doors, mind reeling over what he'd read in the note book next, if he even decided to pick it back up. He might just burn it. Right now, that seemed like the better option. Surely there was nothing he needed in there, let alone the chance that Newton may one day get his slimy hands on it. With his jaw locking into place, he frowned. That was definitely something that needed to be avoided at all cost, but he'd deal with that once he cleared his head.


	2. Heya, Herms, whatcha reading?

Once his tea was gone, Hermann tried as hard as he could to focus on his work, but with that old notebook just a drawer pull away, he was finding it rather difficult. He had the persistent urge to continue reading it, and a rather nagging feeling that there was something in the words that he need to read right then. Of course, he figured that was just the urge to read it talking, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he'd written after the previous entries. Maybe there was something he needed to read...

With a sigh, he gave up, leaning back in his chair to get the key from his pocket, unlocking the drawer with a defeated look on his face. He was glad that Newton could so easily keep himself distracted across the way, he didn't need the other trying to read over his shoulder or something. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he pulled the notebook back out and set it on the desk, idly closing the door as he stared at it. This had better be worth the distraction it had become. As he flipped it open with one hand, resting one elbow on the desk, propping his head up with a loose fist that he rested his temple on. The sooner he read this, the sooner he could move on, he told himself as he slid his glasses back on to his face.

> _***** It's been a year now. A full year of letter exchange. This is a vast accomplishment for me, even though I know it's because our conversations have been through script. Face to face conversation is still frustratingly awkward for me since there is still no one I've encountered who can match my intellect. He's asked me to call him 'Newt' from now on... Newt...? I find myself hoping to meet him one day. Perhaps interpersonal communication would be much simpler with him than it is with others. We are on the same level, after all... Newt... I much anticipate his response._

The mathematician found himself wincing at his words again, stuck on reading and rereading over how he hoped to meet the other. He wished he could go back in time and tell his younger self that he's wishing torture on himself; that Newton was no one he wanted to associate with. But then again, he had to scold himself. As much as he protested, Dr. Geiszler wasn't _entirely_ bad...he had his moments of usefulness, of pleasant conversation...

> _***** I made no mistake in responding to Newton's first letter, I've noted. He shares the passion for sciences just as I do, and we've had some of the best discussions I believe I've had with another human. They're so engaging and thought provoking... In his recent letters, he's told me all about how early he had been accepted into MIT, and enrolled himself in any and every class he could get his hands on. He said he was afraid at first, wary that he may have taken on too much at once, but once he'd settled into the scene, he managed flawlessly. I can appreciate that sort of dedication. He'd gotten six doctorates, come up with even more theories and had even been the mind behind several researches. He's now teaching for them, but continuing his work in the fields. If anyone could manage all that, it was bound to be this man. I'm hardly surprised by the news... _

He was jolted from the words at that moment, from the intrusive sound of an aerosol spray which drew his surprised gaze to his lab partner who had a can of whipped cream in his hand, tip pressed to his lips. With how puffed out the others cheeks were then, it wasn't a large leap to the conclusion that his mouth was now full of the fattening substance. Hermann narrowed his eyes as the other attempted to smile at him.

“Where did you even get that?” he asked, tone quite incredulous. He hadn't seen an actual can of whipped cream in ages, let alone in the Shatterdome. Newton struggled to swallowed the mouthful as he tried not to laugh. Hermann was thankful, though, having no need to see whipped cream explode from the other's nostrils in this lifetime.  
  
“Stole it from the mess hall while Tendo distracted the cooks. Been using it in some desserts, I guess.” he explained and he shook the can again in order to refill his mouth. Hermann rested his arm over the pages of his notebook as he shifted to face Newt a little more.  
  
“Tendo helped you?” he tilted his head. “What did he get out of the deal?”

“Oh, I grabbed a can for him too.” he said around the topping he was trying to choke down. Hermann's eyes narrowed a bit more as he wondered; if was really all that difficult to eat, why was he trying so hard to do so? Newt offered the can out to the mathematician, whose simple shake of the head and slight disgusted look had him chuckling as he tucked the can back into their mini fridge once the cap was back on it. “You _so_ don't want to want to know what he wanted his for.” he said then, as he shook his head and headed back to his desk.

Hermann made a soft noise of disapproval at his previous thought process as he turned back to the notebook. Newton wasn't much for good conversation, who was he trying to fool? He let his eyes scan back over the section he'd left off on before continuing to the next page. He was already wishing he could stop reading, but he knew he'd just be drawn back to the pages anyway so why bother even wasting that extra time? He found himself thinking about how it was almost painful that he regarded Newton so highly before they'd met and just how this whole thing was getting harder to read.

> _...I just wonder how he finds the time to write those lengthy letters to me, though it does explain why they come so sporadically from time to time. I can't blame him. I'm busy enough with my work that I can barely find time for writing to him. And it's only been getting more difficult with my father trying to encourage me to join the Jaeger Academy. I've done work for the program here and there before, but joining the academy is different..._
> 
> _***** Deciding to join the academy has been simultaneously the best and worst decision of my life. I've made a name for myself, working on the codes for the Mark-1s without fail, but the rest of the training is so labor intensive and tiresome. It also keeps me incredibly busy and unable to respond to Newt's letters. I told him when I joined up and I think he's come to realize the occupation, though, because letters keep coming through even without responses returning to him. He continues our previous conversations as if he knew what I was going to say and sends well wishes for my training and health. In one letter, he expressed his concern for me, having heard of what the academy training entails, but assures me that he has faith in my abilities and high hopes for my future. He's the most supportive role in my life and I haven't even met him face-to-face. I'm still hoping to. His letters are the only thing driving me forward these days..._

It was hardly surprising that, in that moment, Hermann really wished Newton was not in the same area as him. It was going to be hard to speak to him for a while, and he could feel that the next entries were probably going to worse on that. He used to care for Newton so much, and from the way the letters had gone, he felt like Newton used to care for him just as much, if not more. All that concern for his well-being through the training... It was so foreign to think kindly of Newton anymore, but how could he not as he re-read? After all, the last line wasn't a lie...  
  
He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat, throwing a glance to his lab partner as he turned the page in his notebook. Thankfully, the other seemed so engrossed in what he was doing that he hadn't seemed to noticed the shift in his attitude or comfort level. Maybe he would get through this yet...

> _***** Just as I've finished my courses, Newt sends word that he's decided to enroll. Our letters find each other much more quickly now, due to far less distance, and I only hope that I've been able to reassure him how well he will do in the next year. Six doctorates down in only a few years? Yes, I'm certain he can handle what's in store for him now. On another note, since we're much closer in distance now, perhaps we'll soon meet? But then again, the first few weeks in the academy are the worst. He'll be far too busy to spare much time at all... I will return the favor he paid to me, though, and continue to send him letters whether he's able to respond or not. It's simply the least I can do._
> 
> _***** I wonder if Newt ever felt embarrassed writing out his letters to me while I went through Academy... All I feel is awkward and unsure of myself. I promised to continue writing to him but I can barely get three sentences out before I crumple the page and discard it. How do you reassure someone that you know they can do something? What kind words do you ease together to warm their heart and drive them forward? Inspire them to continue? Never to stop? That they can do and you're so very certain of it? I've never had this problem when writing to Newt before. It's flustering. I just want to make sure he knows he's not alone in this. Especially now, when the academy strives to break your spirit and mind, to test each and every one of your limits whether you plan to try to eventually pilot a jaeger or not. And after he held me together through it, I must do the same for him._

The mathematician cupped his hand over half his face, lightly blushing at the words that were re-cementing thoughts and feelings in his mind. He couldn't believe what he was reading. Did he really used to have some sort of weird crush on Newton back then? He didn't even remember feeling that way... or maybe he was just awkward with how he used to phrase things? Maybe it was just that his words seemed strange out of context when they were written down or something; there was just no way he could be harboring any sort of attraction to Newton.

> _***** He managed to respond through his courses. An entire piece of paper, and all it said was 'thank you.' Not a hello, not a farewell for now. His and my name were on the front for postage, and it was all definitely his handwriting, but he didn't even sign it. I don't think I've been so emotionally taken aback by two words in my life. Two little words. Thank you. And he doesn't even need to say more. I know what he's going through right now. I know what these words mean. The sincerest words he's ever written to me, and that's why he can't write more. That's why I couldn't read more even if he had. These two words mean too much. But he will make it through this._

Hermann hooked his hand across his forehead, fingers spread to block Newton out of his peripheral vision simply because he couldn't bare to look at him right then. He remembered the night he got that letter. He'd gotten so excited that a letter from Newton had finally come in, happiness practically spilling out his ears, and all the letter had said was 'thank you' and he just about collapsed into his seat and started crying. Mostly happily, but he had felt like something in those two words had just cemented something in their odd, platonic long distance relationship and could only feel embarrassed about it now. Newton had probably forgotten it by now just like he had done previously, and now only he remembered? He wished he'd chosen to read this in his barracks, where at least he could have the night to sleep it off before having to face Newton again.  
  
He soon decided, though, that perhaps if he kept reading now it'd get less embarrassing because his feelings after they met would make up for all the feelings that were returning to him now.

> _***** He's gotten through academy now. Well, almost. He'll graduate soon, and even though I'm not sure what branch he's ended up in, or even which he had initially intended to get into, I can hope its what's best for him. He's asked to meet me some time after he gets out. I can assume he means once he gets settled some place. I find myself nervous now, however. I've been hoping to meet with him for at least the past two years now, if not closer to the full three we've been exchanging letters, but I hesitate now. Why is that? Do I fear that we will not connect as we should? Am I afraid that Newt will discard me like everyone else does? I'm not sure if I could stand that with him. We've shared so much over the past few years. We reached a level of connection that I had never had before him. Especially within the last year alone. I've gotten my hopes up too high for this moment, it seems. I will have to lower them, if just a little, before we meet. I simply hope for the best. Newt has become very dear to me._

“Heya, Herms, whatcha reading?” On startled instinct, Hermann slammed the notebook closed and laid an arm over it, stiffly turning to face Newton who had gotten up close behind him some time recently. He attempted to will the blood from his face as he looked up at the other, over the frame of his glasses.  
  
“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” he was sure he sounded far more defensive than he should have right then. The other scientist tilted his head, giving him a confused, sort of skeptical look but he just clapped his hands together awkwardly and he took a step back.  
  
“I was just gonna get a refill, and was kinda sorta wondering if maybe you wanted something? Didn't mean to, er...bug ya or anything.” Hermann tried not to laugh, but the way the other was nervous about having startled him from his reading was just pathetically adorable; one of the times when Gottlieb could mostly stand him.  
  
“Another tea would be lovely, thank you.” and he watched Newton the entire time he was headed to and out the door, even waiting ten more seconds to be sure before looking back to the source of his embarrassment. Maybe if he could finish this before his lab partner got back....

> _***** There's a date set for us to meet. I grow more and more anxious as the days go. Will he look anything like I've imagined? How will his voice sound? Will we be able to hold a conversation without pause or end up sitting in silence? Would it be an awkward silence of an all too comfortable silence? I wonder if he is as nervous for this..._
> 
> _***** It's next week. I can barely focus on my work now. This is getting frustrating. I must calm down lest I be the one to ruin it all._
> 
> _***** Tomorrow afternoon. I fear I will not sleep tonight._

Gods, Newton wasn't even the room and he felt even more embarrassed at his younger self. It was a meet-up, not a date. How awkward did he really used to be? He felt like he needed to go back in time now, and just calm himself down; just let himself know how much of a shit Newton really was.

> _***** I barely slept two hours from the anxious fidgeting, and nervous contemplation of everything that could happen today. And, when I finally did get to sleep, I had a dream in which we met. One that I had had a few scarce times before, if I recall correctly, but this one was different. We met, we shared words and lunch. Our conversation dragged on for most of the evening. And then something unbelievable happened. This, I blame on my anxiety entirely. There's no way that Newt and I would be that intimate. That scenario would never come true. I've spent the last two cups of coffee attempting to clear them from my memory, lest I meet Newt and all I can think about in his breath in my ear and his hands on—if I don't leave now I'm going to be late._

Hermann was once again startled by Newt's sudden presence, this time to set his tea down on the desk next to him. Luckily, he managed to keep his jolt under control, and only draped his arm over the writing instead of slamming it closed.  
  
“A-ah, thank you, Newt, tea sounds excellent in this moment,” he swallowed hard he added the single sugar packet he had on his desk into the cup. Newt offered him a wary smile, though he smiled a little stronger when he realized what the other had called him.  
  
“No problem, Herms. Good readings there, or?” he tried to change the subject before Hermann corrected himself.  
  
“Not at all,” he was defensive again as he closed the book. "In fact," he cleared his throat as he tucked it back into the drawer and relocked it. He turned his attention to his tea, then, ignoring the bright blush on his own face as he was remembering what came up on the next few pages. He was thoroughly done with his younger self. "I'm never reading it again.”


End file.
